


They Say Home is Where The Heart Is (And We Buried It With You)

by honeyandsunshine



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, I am so sorry, I kill off the Enterprise Crew, Like... the Entire Enterprise Crew, M/M, Survivor Guilt, This is over ten thousand words of a grief study
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-02
Updated: 2019-12-26
Packaged: 2021-02-25 20:34:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21641542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/honeyandsunshine/pseuds/honeyandsunshine
Summary: Spock has watched his home burn once, watched his people be destroyed before his eyes. He does not think he would survive watching it again. He does. Jim does.In some ways -in all ways- this is worse.
Relationships: James T. Kirk & Enterprise crew, James T. Kirk & Leonard "Bones" McCoy & Spock, James T. Kirk & Spock, James T. Kirk/Spock, Spock & Enterprise Crew
Comments: 4
Kudos: 40





	1. The Crash

**Author's Note:**

> This one is rough guys... like really rough. Please read at your own discretion. No one is really okay in this, especially not our favorite command pair. It started as a plot bunny that I couldn't ignore and then it turned into a full-blown multi-chapter story and that is... my bad yall. All of it is essentially a grief and recovery story. Enjoy I guess.

Aloxi Beta is, by all definitions, a prosperous planet, and one of the few where they have not had to actively invoke the Prime Directive in. The civilization here is advanced enough to contact Star Fleet of their own volition, reaching out in hopes of establishing a port and hub for ships such as the Enterprise. 

It is, by all means, a resounding  _ yes _ , for once from both Starfleet and the Enterprise crew _.  _ While it is not their usual destination, upon arriving, the Enterprise has been treated fairly and kindly by the Aloxians. The planet has seen no recent wars, no conflicting ethics. There are thriving shops and farmlands, schools, businesses, and hospitals. While they are not as advanced as Earth, they are on the rise. Soon they will have ships that can travel outside of their planet’s atmosphere and be free to travel the galaxy. For now, they are content to simply acquire a new trading partner who can bring them goods and workers from far-away planets.

The deal is, as the Captain would say, open and shut. That is the reason why the final party consists of only himself and Captain Kirk, whereas in most cases they would attempt for at least four more. Diplomatic events are considered sacred to the Aloxian people, and should only be attended by those of highest rank and another for witness. 

As he and the Captain fulfill these requirements and there has been absolutely no sign of malicious intent from the Aloxians, complying with their one demand is logical. There is less than a 0.0004% chance of any adverse interactions, negating any extenuating circumstances, and Spock is ready to finalize the agreement and continue with their main mission. 

Not everyone else appears to see this circumstance as appealing however. 

Just before they beam down, Dr. McCoy grabs his arm. His palm is warm against his sleeve and his grip just a bit too tight. Spock flits his eyes to the ball of bunched up tunic in the doctor’s fist and raises a brow. The Captain stops beside him and eyes his friend warily.

“Bones?” Jim asks. 

McCoy grips a little tighter in response. His adam’s apple bobs for a moment in his throat, a single swallow before he speaks.

“Be careful, alright? This is too easy and I just.. I have a bad feeling about this one.”

There is no need for any sort of apprehension. The planet is prosperous, it’s people advanced. The Enterprise is merely here to finalize a trade agreement before they move along to their next exploration. Yet, McCoy’s hand trembles ever so slightly, and beside him, the Captain shifts his weight to cover his own anxiety at the outburst, even as he reaches over to place his hand over McCoy’s wrist. 

“We’ll be fine, Bones.” The Captain says, reassuring as he always is. “Fine  _ and _ back by the end of the day, if we’re lucky. That gives you plenty of time to stick us with IVs and hyposprays and whatever else your Southern heart thinks will keep us fit for duty.”

McCoy still looks skeptical, so Spock straightens a bit more and adds his own input.

“Doctor, the Captain is incorrect in his statement.” He ignores Kirk’s hissed “ _ Spock”  _ and continues. “While we are unlikely to find any problem with the mission, I can assure you that he speaks only for himself. Upon our return, the Captain may be subject to your more  _ unusual  _ methods of ascertaining our continued health, while I attempt more conducive management of our time.”

The grip on his arm slackens immediately as McCoy blinks, takes in the statement, and sputters out a laugh. Jim grins loud and bright, and even Scotty, readying the transporter, loses it entirely and has to hide his laughter in his sleeve. Spock merely raises his brow over eyes that are certainly not twinkling in mirth. 

McCoy smacks his arm with the back of his hand, barely hard enough to feel, before rolling his eyes and attempts to school his face into its familiar scowl. The act is less than satisfactory. 

“You’ll be getting that hypospray whether you like it or not, you hear me you green-blooded computer! Now both of you go before I change my mind on my approval of this whole affair.”

As CMO of the Enterprise, Dr. McCoy is in no way responsible for approving diplomatic events. It has never been, nor will it ever be, under his jurisdiction. This does stop Spock from nodding his assent.

“Of course, Doctor,” Spock says, stepping onto the transporter. He watches as Jim squeezes the doctor’s shoulder, and then rushes over to the empty spot left on the transporter pad. The salute he sends the doctor is sloppy at best and insulting at worst. 

Doctor McCoy starts on another rant. Lt. Commander Scott bursts into laughter. The Captain holds a surprisingly straight face. 

Spock contemplates how they will technically have to put all of this on record. 

“Beam us down, Scotty.” Kirk says, and Spock ignores the way he captures this memory like a snapshot, as this moment were more than just the start of yet another diplomatic outing. 

Perhaps, there was more to McCoy’s anxiety than he previously noted. It is of no matter. When they get back to the Enterprise, Spock will determine the cause. There will be time to focus on the matter after this treaty has been resolved. 

-

There is no time. 

It goes like this. The Aloxian diplomat greets them upon arrival. They are a stout people, small and bent in stature, with large horns protruding from their head’s like that of earthling rams and multiple, large eyes that blink independent of one another. Despite their appearance, their customs are not unlike that of Earth’s. They greet the Captain with a firm handshake and Spock himself with as much of the Ta’al as their four-fingered hands are able to replicate. 

Kirk and Spock greet them similarly, with the brush of the thumb over their own foreheads that Uhura described as a sign of respect. The Aloxian’s seem pleased at this interchange, and the rest of the brief introductions go on without any problem from either side - _ the communicators appear to have no problems with understanding the dialect and provide ample translation _ . The diplomats seem just as pleased with the trade agreement Star Fleet has proposed, eager and more-than-willing to hold-up their end of the bargain. 

It is, by multiple degrees, the simplest diplomatic interaction Spock has found himself a part of. Each side seems at ease with the other, Spock included, and Kirk is in the middle of finalizing a small detail involving shipping cargo when everything goes horrifically wrong. 

An alarm sounds, distant and shrill in the distance, and then another Aloxian, previously unknown to Spock, comes careening in the doorway. 

Spock tenses immediately, hand set just above his phaser, and from the corner of his eye he sees the Captain do the same, just as prepared from the numerous shoot-outs they have found themselves in. 

The Aloxian does not bring violence, nor does he bring news of such. Instead from out his mouth comes news of something that is indefinitely, indescribably worse. 

“The Emergency Distress beacon has been activated. The U.S.S. Enterprise has sent word of full-system failure. The vessel is entering orbit and shows no sign of recovery.”

The meeting is no longer a priority, and if Spock could think of anything other than the immediate recoil that fills his mind, he would be grateful that the Aloxians respond with the same regard. Their hosts take them immediately to their nearest communication center. It is just a mere eight floors up from the room they were occupying for the trade agreement, but every flight feels immensely longer than it should. 

Spock attempts to hail the Enterprise twenty two times in the time it takes to reach the room. None of his replies are met. Not by Lt. Commander Scott. Not by Uhura. Not even by Sulu who currently has the comm. 

Every second that passes without communication is counted.  _ Forty-three _ before they reach the elevator,  _ ninety-four _ before they reach their floor,  _ one-hundred and eighty-seven _ before they reach the communication room. Every second the Enterprise is possibly losing life-support systems. Every second, he and the Captain are not there to help fix it. 

His Captain’s distress is palpable and would be even if Spock could not feel its residue thrumming through the brush of their skin. More than once he has asked Spock for an update and more than once he has cursed the tense “ _ no change, Captain _ ” Spock allows him before attempting to hail them again. With every quiet exchange, the Captain’s fear, terror, and self-loathing grow. He blames himself for this, Spock knows. 

There is, of course, no way Kirk could have known this would happen in his absence. There is also no way the Captain will not feel this to be because of his own lacking in Command. The Enterprise is incredibly dear to him, his family, his  _ home _ . Any attempt made on it or his crew is taken as personally as if it were on the Captain himself, possibly even more so. 

_ It as not as if you are any different,  _ some part of Spock says. He ignores it, and attempts to contact the Enterprise again. 

_ Two-hundred and twenty-three.  _

Beside him, Kirk fists his hand in his hair angrily, before taking up his own communicator and attempting his own hail. They had not attempted this before now. Too many signals can sometimes cause the systems to reject both, but now they are fearful, desperate. 

Too long without system recovery leads to a decline in life-support mechanisms. A decline in life support mechanisms means a loss of crew.  _ Any loss of crew was unacceptable, but having such to happen while they were unable to assist, unable to protect them? Unthinkable. Illogical.  _

_ Wrong. _

The communicators apparently were able to get out the distress signal out, but nothing past that. Beaming back onto the ship was near impossible because it was still in orbit. Beaming the crew off the ship was impossible for the same reason. No vessel planet-side would be able to reach the crew or attempt rescue; the Aloxian vessels were not meant for conditions outside planetary orbit. Communication with the crew was the only option they had for any sort of solution to the problem at hand. 

The communication which was currently unavailable to them. 

_ Three-hundred and ninety-eight. _

The Aloxians themselves were attempting to help in anyway they could. The one who had informed them of the Enterprise’s distress message was frantically typing away on what appeared to be their version of a data pad, and a few others had gathered around him, muttering vaguely and adding in suggestions. Spock could see a crackling video of Sulu pulled up on the screen  _ -the original distress message-  _ and with every click and swipe of the Aloxian’s paws, Spock could see the message become a little clearer. 

_ The distress on their Senior Helmsman’s face was palpable and Spock wants more than ever to deny the clench of the heart in his side.  _

The Aloxians turn to him suddenly, their faces turning a color that Spock has not seen before. Their many eyes are bright and wide. 

“We have... We have deciphered the rest of the distress message. It... Captain Kirk, its contents are most distressing."

Spock feels Jim’s panicked breathing cut off with a harsh inhale. To his credit, his voice does not shake when he gives the command. It is the same voice he uses with the crew when they are, yet again, facing utmost danger, and it is the voice that Spock will always follow. He finds himself standing straighter now and positions himself where he should always be, right behind his Captain. The hand that isn’t clutching his communicator finds Jim’s elbow and grips it tightly.

“Play it.” Jim says, and the air around his cracks with the command. 

The Aloxian flicks the video with a paw that sends it to the larger central screen. Immediately, Sulu’s familiar voice fills the room. 

“This is the U.S.S. Enterprise, issuing an SOS to all available personnel. A meteor storm has damaged our lady- our  _ ship _ \- beyond capable repair. Life support is down to 12% and falling quickly. ETA three minutes to uninhabitable conditions. I  _ fear- I - God Ben, Demora-”  _ His voice breaks, and with it all composure. It takes a moment for him to swallow back the tears; Spock’s grip on Jim’s arm shakes. “I fear there is no helping us. If this is the last message of the Starship Enterprise, know that everyone here has served with dignity and with honor. We have been proud to serve on this vessel. We have been proud to serve under our Captain and our First Officer. Jim, Spock, if you are hearing this, know that there is no member of this crew that is not overjoyed to have served with you. Thank you for everything-”

The video cuts out, and with it, all hope.

_ It has been five-hundred and fifty-three seconds. Nine point two minutes. The ship could not have sustained life this long.  _

_ The crew could not have sustained life this long.  _

The room becomes unbearably still. No one makes a noise, not Spock, not Jim, not the Aloxians. Spock is somehow still gripping Spock’s elbow. Jim is trembling against his hand. Logically there are now actions that need to be enacted, circumstances that need to be prepared for. Starfleet should be notified. A search team should be sent out. Family members... family members should be notified of the untimely loss. Spock should do his duty as First Officer, as a Vulcan, and assist where his human counterpart cannot. 

Spock counts seconds instead. 

_ Five-hundred fifty-four, five-hundred fifty-five.  _

He does not make it to a thousand before it is announced that the Enterprise has crashed into the desert ten kilometers from where they stand. 

Jim screams. Spock, in true Vulcan fashion, does not say a word. 


	2. The Ring

Spock sees the blaze before the actual wreckage. They’ve been hustled into a vehicle, him, the Captain, and a medical crew, armed with as many supplies as they could possibly use. 

_ As soon as the fire is in view, Spock knows none of it will see any wear today. _

The excessive oxygen content of the Aloxian air sends the blaze half a mile into the sky. Spock sees it before anyone else with his superior vision, but even the Aloxian’s notoriously bad eyesight can spot the tower of smoke and flames erupting from the disturbed earth. His Captain is out of his seat the minute they are close enough, frantically scanning for any sign of life. Spock knows any second he will ask for statistics, probabilities. They need information to give the medical team beside them, what to look for, how to treat the mostly-human crew members that populated - _ once populated- _ the ship. 

Spock’s throat is unnaturally dry for the weather. He knows his answer; has known it since the wreckage came into view. That does not make the thought any less disturbing. 

On the abyssal chance someone had survived the crash - _ barely 0.03%, if he includes the hardier alien populations aboard the ship- _ , the resulting blaze would have been hot enough to burn them alive within minutes. The death would have been agonizing.    


It is unnatural for a Vulcan to wish harm upon anyone. Upholding life is the greatest of all of the Vulcan laws, and the lives of his crew are no exception. 

_ He hopes the impact took them all.  _

-

The thought becomes more and more cemented in his mind the closer they get to the wreckage.

The Captain does not understand this, or perhaps he does, but will not succumb to it. Jim Kirk’s Captaincy is made of defied odds, of events and truths so wild and outlandish that had Spock not witnessed them all in person, he would have thought them just another plot of human grandeur. Pulling the crew out of this wreckage would be just another broken law in a sea of broken laws. Spock would do anything - _ give anything- _ for this to be the case, but fate is not so kind. 

When they approach the wreckage, his Captain jumps out, primed for rescue. The flames before him swirl and scream, but Kirk stands tall and proud, ready to find and take back his crew. Spock steps out after him, but defeat has already settled upon him. Even this far away, the heat scorches his skin, and Spock hates himself even more for the thoughts that come with the feeling.

_ How can one beg for the death of one's crew mates and not feel guilt?  _

He has no time to analyze this thought, or even the action of feeling at all, before Kirk is grabbing one of the med bags and running towards the blaze. Spock barely manages to catch his Captain’s shoulder before he can bolt into the flames.

“Captain you cannot-!” 

He is cut off when the Captain bucks his hand and whirls around to face him. His eyes are wild, chest heaving. Tears have already cut their path along his cheeks. 

“How  _ dare  _ you?” He seethes. “That is  _ our crew _ Spock. What about Chekov and Sulu and Scotty and Bones? What about  _ Nyota _ ? I am not going to sit here on my ass when I could be helping them!” 

“No one could have survived that, Captain!” Spock yells, and distantly, he knows that his emotionless front has been broken. The Captain’s mouth snaps shut as his face just crumples, and Spock feels so, so resigned. “Jim… turn away, please. You’ll only injure yourself.” 

There is a moment, a split second where Spock thinks his Captain will ignore him and go careening into the smoldering remains anyway. 

And then it passes, and the Captain…  _ Jim _ drops his head against Spock’s chest and lets out a wail that is almost inhuman in nature _.  _ His fingers bury themselves in the once-crisp folds of his First’s jacket, as Spock keeps the wreckage from view.

Spock, hypocrite that he is, watches the remains of their ship burn the entire time. 

-

Someone informs Starfleet. 

It is not Spock, and it is certainly not Jim, who has spent the last hours - _ 4.74 to be exact-  _ in a blank, comatose-like state. He does not rouse for the driver who takes them back to the diplomatic building or the Aloxian ambassadors who lead them to a quiet, empty room or even for Spock himself, who remains steady and fixed at his Captain’s side. 

He does not even rise for the interplanetary message that crackles from their comms, but that is alright. He is human; the grief would have affected him the most. 

_ It should not affect Spock at all, but this is besides the point.  _

Spock responds as every First should, robotically taking the comm from his Captain’s side and answering the questions of the Ambassador contacting them. He informs them of the basics:  _ how many were lost, time of the crash, information on the Captain’s whereabouts, the when, why, and how.  _ He regales them with facts and information and pretends he is thinking of anything besides the pulsing  _ grief grief grief  _ beating against his skin. They tell him of their plans to come and retrieve the cre-  _ the remains.  _ They tell him to take care of his Captain, as if that were not his only priority. They end it swiftly, as is the case with most Starfleet transmission and, Spock ends the call with his usual thanks.

_ Later, when he is all alone, he will think back on the taste of that word in his mouth and spend twenty long, illogical minutes in the washroom doing his best to scrub the taste out. _

-

The Medical lab comms Spock in a day after the crash. Technically, they comm his Captain but Jim is finally asleep, and Spock cannot - _ will not-  _ wake the man. Especially not for what they want. Not for this. 

So Spock finds his way down to the Diplomatic Medical labs - _ morgue-  _ on unsteady legs that should be fine and greets the Aloxian mortician with a blank stare. Usually, he would allow an acknowledgement here, as most species require such, but the man is a doctor, and calling him such is.. wrong. Horrific, almost. 

_ There are plenty of other doctors who are not McCoy, but there are no longer any who  _ _ are McCoy. _ __

It is pure knowledge, fact, but still it weakens him, and Spock leans his shoulder lightly on the doorframe to steady himself. Even removed from the initial wreckage, the room smells of smoke and ash. His  _ crew  _ smells of smoke and ash. 

Spock slots his hands behind his back to quell their shaking - _ Remember Jim-  _ and allows the mortician to speak. 

The mortician greets him with a nod and his name - _ Dr. Aj’x _ . He is tall and well-built for an Aloxian but his constant motion makes him appear half that. Spock has faced far more terrifying and demanding men as the Enterprise’s Commander. That does not make the shaking quell. 

It appears that nothing will. 

Aj’x does not seem to notice this. Instead, he glances Spock up and down as if appraising him, and then swiftly claps his hands. 

“This will work, yes. We’ll have to hurry.”

Spock continues to stare at him and sees the mortician take a step back and reevaluate his statement.

“You’re still qualified to identify them, as Second-in-Command, yes? And as a Vulcan, you are better than your poor human Captain, yes?” 

_ As a Vulcan.  _ As that emotionless Commander that Spock should be right now. The Commander that the Captain… that  _ Jim  _ needs him to be right now. 

Not that Jim knows he needs anything right now, as far down in his grief as he is. 

Still, the mortician has a valid argument that Spock is more than in agreement with. He nods once, a solemn, silent thing, and braces himself. He is Vulcan. He can withstand this, however horrible it is. 

He couldn’t have been more wrong.

He was expecting most of it, expecting but still _horrified_ at the blood and gore; the charred remains of the crew mates that just last week, were happily counting the month down to shore-leave. What he did not account for was the sheer mass, all 1,014 members of the Enterprise present and marked. - _and what a statistically improbable thing, that none of the remains burnt up in the crash.-?_ He can barely view the bodies that curled together, one protecting another, and falters at the image of the ones who died completely alone. But it is the ring that breaks him.

McCoy’s ring specifically.

His body is one of the last Spock identifies, but one of the ones least affected by the flames. Sickbay is - _ was- _ designed as one of the most protected areas of the Enterprise, per orders from Jim, himself, and Dr. McCoy. Just last year, they reinforced a good portion of the walls surrounding the medical bay. All of the personnel here are easier to identify because of it. 

He’s curled around Nurse Chapel and another younger intern, because  _ of course he is _ , and the flames managed to capture the horror frozen on his face during his last moments. Eyes wide but determined as he crouched over two of his colleges. 

_ Jim can never see this. But Spock, Spock can never unsee this. He  _ **_will never_ ** _ unsee this.  _

His stomach threatens to riot, and if it were not for decorum, for his need for this to be him and not Jim, he would have vomited right there on the morgue tiles. 

But if it were not for this need, he would not have seen the ring. 

Spock has never actually seen the ring before, as it is always hidden behind the Doctor’s tunic, but he knows of its existence. It is where it always is, dangling on the chain around McCoy’s neck. Tarnished silver glimmering among the remains. For any other man, it would have been his wedding ring, but not McCoy. Instead it was set with a soft blue stone etched into the middle, what McCoy once told him was his daughter's birthstone. 

It should not have survived the fire - _ how did anything survive the fire? There are statistics, and probabilities. Maybe maybe… no he is Vulcan and can withstand this; remember Jim-  _ but here it is, covered in ash but otherwise recognizable, the ring McCoy wore to everything, the ring he cherished almost as much as his own daughter.

The ring that is now clenched in Spock’s hand.

What he does next is selfish by human standards. It is selfish by  _ all _ standards.

The ring belongs - _ belonged-  _ to McCoy. Upon his death, it should return to his daughter, who it symbolized in the first place, to have something to remember him by. Spock stares at the bitter, clear blue and finally parts his parched mouth. 

“All the remains are identified and accounted for.”

He pockets the ring and firmly does not think about how much McCoy would hate him.

It never returns to Joanna. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this is all spaced a bit oddly, but I’m trying a new format and I’m hoping it works! For those of you thinking Spock is a bit off in not focusing on the facts, I tried not to stray too Ooc but I think a little bit is called for considering the circumstances. Thank you to everyone following this story! I hope you’ve had a Merry Christmas!


End file.
